Vendetta
by Wonder Squint
Summary: 2 years post-finale, in which Mark, in his pursuit for revenge, decides to take a page out of "The Havenport Tragedy" and make it his own. Warning: contains dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: 2 years post-finale, in which Mark, in his pursuit for revenge, decides to take a page out of "The Havenport Tragedy" and make it his own. Warning: contains dark themes._

_This idea came to me while pondering what might just happen in future seasons and I remembered something Joe did in season 1 regarding Claire. So, I thought perhaps I'd take the concept and twist it a little to fit these circumstances. Updates may be slow at times, but I hope you can be patient. Also, bear in mind, if I receive little feedback, I'll be less inclined to update. I'm being harsh but fair._

_Please heed the cautionary warning in the summary. I'm aware it remains true to the theme of the show but to some, this may be considered far more gruesome and triggering – but I'll try not to be too graphic in my depictions. Read, review and enjoy._

_Disclaimer: All rights go to FOX._

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**VENDETTA  
CHAPTER 1**

* * *

It was times like these when Mike questioned Ryan's ability to comprehend the concept of sleep and the reasonable hours in which to call someone. If his frustration wasn't clear in his groan upon answering the phone, it certainly manifested in his tone, "What, Ryan?"

"Turn on the TV." The older man gravely instructed, "And don't wake Max. She shouldn't see this." At the mention of his wife's name, Mike was suddenly alert.

He was mindful not to shift the mattress as he got up, trying not to wake her, "Why? What's going on?" he inquired, the vexation in his voice replaced by concern.

"Just turn the damn TV on, Mike!" Ryan exclaimed, seemingly pacing.

Once Mike had closed the door to the bedroom, he searched for the remote in the dimly lit lounge and promptly switched on the television. What greeted him upon start-up felt like a knife had wretched its way into his gut.

He watches on in dread as a news broadcaster delivers a breaking story, "Recent events have concluded that a serial killer has been stalking the streets of New York City in a vicious pursuit of pregnant women in their mid to late twenties. Further information has not yet been released from the authorities; however reports have discovered the would-be mothers share similar physical characteristics – hence the MO of a serial killer."

Mike doesn't have a chance to process the information before the man on the screen presses a hand to his ear and continues, "We are now receiving information on a missing persons report filed early this afternoon. – a young woman of twenty-eight in her seventh month of pregnancy who fits the profile of the killer's previous victims." A photograph flies onto the screen and Mike's heart plummets toward his stomach as he notices the uncanny resemblance the missing woman bears to his wife.

If the news anchor had said anything further, Mike wouldn't have heard it for his mind had drifted off elsewhere; stunned by the account and unable to ignore it's reality.

Ryan was still on the line, waiting for Mike to speak when he heard another voice in the distance of the call, "Mike?"

Sensing the movement behind him, Mike's thoughts came rushing back to the present and he was able to switch the TV off before she saw anything on its screen.

"Hey." Mike greeted and successfully managed to keep his voice from breaking. He looked up to find Max in her pyjamas, peering down at him through weary eyes, "Couldn't you sleep?" she asks, her speech laced with lethargy.

Mike cursed his carelessness in having the volume so loud on the TV that it had woken her, "I'm sorry, honey." he atones, taking her left hand in his and kissing her knuckles. It was something he often did to calm himself while toying with the wedding band he had placed on her ring finger one year prior.

Max shakes her head, "Don't be. It was your child who woke me." And her free hand comes to rest on the growing globe at her middle. She is six months along and the baby had only recently begun to kick. However, the tiny feet were generally directed inward towards his mother's organs, leaving his father often disappointment, unable to share in the miraculous movement of their unborn child. Still, he revelled in the sight of his wife's body changing to accommodate a little human; the conspicuous glow to her skin that only impending motherhood could bring.

And for all Mike anticipated and cherished the rare moments in which he was able to feel a kick, when Max takes the hand he was using to hold hers and places it on her belly, he feels far from elated, rather overwhelmed with a sense of terror and trepidation. He disguises it with a smile, of course and if she weren't so exhausted, she'd have seen right through it.

"Go back to bed; I'll join you in a minute." He kisses her and tells her he loves her once she reaches the door, receiving a mumbled endearment in reply.

As opposed to his word, Mike didn't return to bed – as if he'd be able to sleep now. Instead, he called Ryan back and they tried their best not to freak out. What was happening? What were they going to do? Who was doing this?

Mike had an inkling and he hoped beyond the hope they've never had that its wrong.

…

A shrill scream pierced the air, echoing onto the high walls of the abandoned warehouse.

The calmer, yet eerie voice of a man spoke then, "Hush now, they'll be here soon." He told his prisoner – perhaps reassuringly - wiping splatters of her blood from his face. Had her eyes not been blindfolded, she'd have surrendered to the peaceful oblivion of unconsciousness at the sight of her body drenched in blood. However, as it was, her captive had other plans and his intention was to keep her awake and alert – aware of just that which he was doing to her, if only for her to feel it.

"What do you want from me?" she had asked at one point, or perhaps a few; the events of the past hour were hazing and growing gradually so as she lost more blood.

"I want you to send a message." He told her, shuffling around quicker now, knowing the authorities would arrive at any moment.

"You're not going to kill me?" the young woman asked, more a faint whisper than anything else. It was all she could manage; her remaining strength accommodative to only her continued breathing.

She didn't know who he was but she knew what he had done to women in the very same condition. Unlike his previous victims however, he hadn't given them the chance to survive and endure the reality of his attack. And she could only weep hysterically at the knowledge that she would be the one to face it.

Suddenly, sirens sounded in the distance. As if on cue, the man finally approached her, his breath on her ear and even without her sight, she knew his face adorned a crooked grimace as he spoke his next words, "Tell Max Hardy… this is all for her."


	2. Chapter 2

_Firstly, thank you for the reviews on the first chapter. Without them, I wouldn't bother posting my work. Keep 'em coming and I'll try my best to update frequently. Secondly, I realise the length of the first chapter was shabby but with what I've planned for the 9 remaining chapters, the rest should be longer. You'll find that, like in this chapter, I've added little snippets of light-heartedness to contradict the angst and darkness throughout the story – something they do on the show. Please read, review and enjoy._

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**CHAPTER 2**

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Max had never relished the thought of getting up in the morning, and now that she was pregnant, nothing had changed. The baby inside of her however, seemed to favour early rises and more often than not, the kicking woke not only his mother, but his father too. "Our boy is sure to be a soccer player." Mike chuckled one morning in response to a slight thud from Max's belly and into his back.

Using her arms to pull herself upright, Max remembers countering Mike with the prospect that their child may be a girl. Not that it mattered, she thought as she soothed out the lines of her night-shirt before hauling herself up and out of bed. Where was Mike anyway? He was normally dead to the world by the time she woke before him.

She didn't like that either; waking up alone.

"Mike?" she called out into the lounge, expecting a reply but receiving none. Confused, and just a bit worried, she left the bedroom in search of her husband.

Not having to search long or hard, she found him sat at the kitchen counter. Apparently he hadn't heard her, not with headphones on, focussed intently on the tablet in front of him.

Max was about to make her presence known when she read the news bulletin sliding across the bottom of the screen.

_**Five pregnant women found dead in NYC. – One survivor hospitalised. – Victims aging from 24 to 29.**_

A lump hitched further in her throat when six images appeared on the screen - each of a young, relatively athletic, woman with dark hair and blue eyes; all terribly beautiful and seemingly headstrong.

No. That can't be right, Max reasoned. She pushed past a startled Mike, yanking the headphone wire from the device; wanting to hear what was being said – hoping that somehow the pictures and bulletin were an error.

They weren't.

"Max…" Mike started, tentatively reaching out to take her hand and placing the other on her bump, unsure what to say. Of course he wouldn't have been able to keep this from her. He and Ryan both had been foolish to believe they could.

Keeping her eyes on the tablet, she spoke, "It's him, isn't it?" and Mike nodded knowingly, "We think so."

"We?" she inquired, her puzzled gaze peering up at him. How long had he and whomever else known about this? And how on earth hadn't she heard of the killings before now? She was an NYPD Detective for Christ's sake – why hadn't this reached her sooner? Her brow furrowed further with each unanswered question.

Despite how well he meant in his efforts, Mike supposed he deserved the wrath of a pregnant Max once she found out, "Ryan and me – I was about to head out to meet him." He began warily, "I guess now we're both going." He decided it would be easier to comply, not wanting to provoke her further.

"You're god damn right we are!" she shoved his hands away from her and went to get dressed, slamming and banging things as she went. If her frustration wasn't obvious then, her reckless driving on the way to her Uncle's apartment was enough to impart that message crystal clear.

"Look Max, I don't care how pissed you are with me, but you are not driving again today." He declared once he was safely out of the car. Max was generally not one to be so dramatic but, as per the Doctor's warnings, the baby had a massive influence upon her emotions. _Plenty influence on daddy's survival too,_ Mike exhaled deeply, following her after she told him shut up.

Instead of knocking, as she normally did, Max barged into Ryan's apartment, "Good morning to you too." He greeted, staring at his niece standing on the opposite side of the counter with her hands on her hips, "Who said it was good?" she accused, rejecting the mere thought.

Mike soon arrived in tow and Ryan turned to him, "I'm guessing she knows?" he asked and the younger man nodded, rubbing at his eyes.

"Why shouldn't I know?" Max demanded, "I should've been the first to know."

"We were only trying to protect you, Max." Ryan explained. Of course, she wasn't wrong but damned if he didn't try to keep the promise he had made his brother. Even after all this time, the words ring loudly in his head: "If anything happens to me, protect her." It had been the night of Max's birth and Ryan was holding his baby niece for the first time. She had peered up at him through sleepy blue eyes to match her grandmother – his mother – and he could only vow never to break his promise.

Even as she stood there before him, the same blue eyes flaring with anger, he refused to apologise for it.

Tired slightly from the excursion, Max found a seat beside Mike on the couch, "How long have you known?" she asked them both, seemingly calmer.

"Mike only found out early this morning." Ryan assured her, there was no sense in her being angry with both of them, "I've known since the second murder." It might as well be with him. He knew Max and knew also that she was far more afraid than she was angry.

Max turned to Mike, "Why didn't you tell you hadn't known that long?" she inquired.

He shrugged, "It's not important. It didn't seem to matter." He had been far more concerned with how she was feeling in response to the news – something she had yet to divulge.

She frowned, "It might've made a difference when I threw a blow-dryer at your head earlier." Mike laughed lightly. At least he could smile about it now, seeing as she was less inclined to do it again, "I'm sorry for that, by the way." She said, biting her lip.

Mike pressed his lips to her temple and rubbed her back, "Don't be." He'd forgive her anything.

Across the room, Ryan's phone rang, "Hardy." He answered, "Right. On my way." He hung up and moved to grab his jacket, "She's awake." He told them, referring to the only survivor who had been found alone in an empty warehouse on Staten Island not five hours ago.

"I'm going with you." Max declared, rising from the couch, Mike in tow, "Then so am i." He wasn't going to waste energy arguing with her. When Max was committed, she was permanently committed and there was no otherwise.

"Let's go." She finished, striding past both men.

Ryan stopped Mike at the door before they followed her, "This isn't a good idea." He reasoned.

"Do you wanna tell her that?" Mike offered, somewhat rhetorically.

Neither men were quite that dense and decided best to let Max have her way. Soon afterwards, they arrived at the hospital and found Agent Clarke.

He addressed them with a nod before noticing Max, "Detective Hardy… should you be-"

Max interrupted, rolling her eyes, "No, I shouldn't but I am. Where is she?"

Ryan nodded, giving his colleague the go-ahead, "They're not allowing any visitors except immediate relatives." Clarke explained, "Apparently a murder investigation doesn't seem like a crisis around here." His volume increased as to be heard by the nurses at reception who had refused him entry.

"They'll let me in." She stated, pursing her lips.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?" Ryan inquired, curious to his niece's motives.

"They'll believe I'm her sister." Mike's brow furrowed in confusion, "Oh come on. Isn't that the whole point? Her resemblance to me?" The truth of the fact hit each of them hard. It was certainly undeniable.

"Fine," Mike agreed with a sigh, "But I'm coming with you." And Max nodded.

The couple approached the desk of the ward's reception, "I'm here to see Grace. I'm her sister and this is my husband." Max began. At least half of her claim was true.

The nurse peered over her half-rimmed glasses, surveying them both before checking the computer, "Room 32."

Max thanked the woman and took Mike's hand. Had they looked back, they'd have seen an expression of fret on the nurse's face. Apparently she too had seen the news and noticed the correlation between victims. "Pregnant sisters," she mused to her fellow nurse, "I do hope that one is luckier."

Before they entered the room, Mike took Max to the side, "Are you sure about this?" he asked as his hand settled on the side of her neck; his thumb caressing her jaw, "Clarke can do this later."

"We can't waste any more time, Mike." It was true, "He kept her alive for a reason. I'm not going to wait to find out what it is." She insisted, taking his hand from her face and squeezing it tightly before she knocked on the door.

"Grace?" she began, poking her head past the door, "Grace Newton?"

"Yes?" the woman on the bed turned her gaze from the window to the visitors at the door.

"We're with the police. May we ask you some questions?" Max inquired, stepping further into the room, the door hiding all but her head and arm.

Grace nodded, gesturing their entry. The first thing she noticed was not the resemblance she and Max shared, but the baby bump at her abdomen, "You're pregnant?" she asked in a faint whisper, somehow saddened by the very words.

Max nodded, "Yes, but that's not why I'm here."

"It's why _I'm_ here though, right?" Grace fretted, her eyes bloodshot from tears shed earlier.

The couple shared a glance, uncertain what to say, "You're Max Hardy, right?" Their eyes snapped back to the woman in bed, "How do you know her name?" Mike queried, stepping slightly in front of Max – a protective instinct she often called him out upon. He didn't care, only how this stranger came to know his wife's name.

"He told me to give you a message." Grace explained, swallowing hard, "Though, I'm sure it's obvious by now." Their eyes fell and Max inhaled deeply; closing her eyes at the mere idea he had done all of this in her name, in some sick, twisted pursuit for vengeance.

It had been a long time coming and apparently, he had been biding his time for the past two years for the perfect amount of leverage. That way, he knew just how much he could hurt them both.

"It's why he kept me alive." Grace added into the silence, the tone in her voice conveying a sense of regret. As if she'd prefer he hadn't spared her.

Her eyes addressed Max directly, "Do you know what he did to me? To my baby?" She hoped perhaps they did because she was uncertain of the latter.

"Okay. That's enough." Mike interjected, taking his wife's hand, "Max, come on." He was sorry for what Grace had gone through but he refused to let Max ponder the very idea that she could be next. He himself wasn't at all willing to face it.

Mike had managed to get Max out of the room before Grace broke into a fit of hysterics. Her cursing could be heard down the corridor but Max hadn't heard anything past the confirmation that six women were attacked – five killed – because they unfortunately bore similar characteristics to her. She didn't even know what became of their babies. Did anyone?

"I don't feel good." Max breathed, leaning into Mike. "Don't worry, love. I'm taking you home." He reassured her, nodding to Ryan and they left the hospital.

Meanwhile, a nurse came to Grace's aid while the rest in the ward continued about their business. After all, she wasn't in pain and they couldn't do much else to help her.

"I don't need any more of that." She pointed out as the nurse, who hadn't uttered a word, filled a syringe full with morphine, "The other nurse came in earlier."

Heedless to the patient's words, the morphine was added to the drip and soon entered Grace's bloodstream. As her eyes drifted shut, the other woman bent down to her ear and whispered, "You did your job well. He thanks you." She tells her ominously before closing the door and taking a scalpel from her pocket.

The beeping sound from the heart monitor gradually slowed until the dull tone rang continuously throughout the room.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'd like to point out that the women Mark has been targeting don't necessarily look very much like Max. Most of them will only have similar colouring and fit the age-criteria, because that's more likely since Jessica's beauty is certainly not a dime-a-dozen. Just thought I'd clear that up in case any of you were in disbelief. Anyway, please read, review and enjoy._

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**CHAPTER 3**

* * *

"Hey, you okay?" Mike supposed it was a rather stupid question to ask at this point, but if it could get Max to say something, it didn't matter.

Instead of answering however, Max shrugged as she continued to stare blankly out the window of her uncle's car. She couldn't answer; she didn't have one.

Ryan glanced at the couple's reflection in his rear-view mirror, looking miserably helpless. At one point, he was certain Mike's eyes had met his own, hoping the elder man might know a way to help his niece when her husband couldn't.

But there is neither a way to diffuse the situation, nor would there be a chance to breathe freely until Mark is stopped. And much like Ryan had been in regards to Joe Carroll, Mike wasn't interested in detaining the remaining twin – he wanted to find him and kill him. That way it meant it'd be over; truly and at last.

For now, they could only hope it would be soon.

Given the technical set-up, Mike and Max's apartment was the best place to carry out further investigation into Mark's whereabouts. Ryan had joined them after collecting the hardcopies of research and informative files on the Gray's from two years prior, "Just like old times, huh?" he mused, rifling through the boxes.

"Too much like old times." Max remarked, not unreasonably sullen in light of the circumstances.

The minutes bleed into hours and dawn gave way to dusk as they pinpoint the known locations in which all six women were abducted and later found. Finding no correlation, they move onto researching similarities the victims may have with the exception of that which was obvious.

Of course, there was none to be found. Each woman had an entirely different career, lifestyle and even dieting habits. Mike suggested perhaps they shared the same doctor or visited the same practice within the city – maybe that was how Mark found them.

Max checked and unfortunately, though not surprisingly, the theory came to no avail, "This is useless!" she huffed, slamming the laptop shut, "We can't find anything because there's nothing to find." And with her unmatched tech-savvy, that meant something coming from Max.

"We don't know that, Max." Ryan disagreed despite the evidence having proved otherwise. Usually it was Max who portrayed the role of the optimist but, as it was, her positivity was somewhat lacking of late. And it left the two men struggling to match the hope she often seemed to have.

She sighed, rubbing at her eyes, "Then by all means, keep looking." And they should, what else could they do? "But I'm done for tonight."

She left the room and Mike immediately followed, worried – another trait of hers he had slowly been adapting, though discretely in an effort to keep her stress levels as low as possible.

"Max wait…" he began, reaching for her hand.

"I'm tired, Mike. I just want to sleep." He could tell by the slight drifting of her eyelids that it wasn't a lie.

Mike nodded, of course she was. The toils of the day had taken their toll on each of them.

He used his free hand and sought out her own, holding them tight between their bodies, "Ryan's right, you know. There has to be something." They had to believe that there was, because otherwise they only had one thing to go on and it didn't leave much room for having one up on Mark who currently held the trump card. He had likely spent the better part of the past two years planning what he had recently executed – taking the time to find women whom the trio of vigilantes could identify as their beloved Max Hardy. Her pregnancy may have narrowed the list considerably but somehow, by some fluke, the odds had worked in his favour.

Disenchanted by the fruitless search, Max wasn't at all convinced. However, she thought if two of the biggest pessimists she knew believed otherwise, she ought to have faith that they were right. Or at least hope that they could be, "Then find it." She told him, her eyes clouded with fatigue and a fading dare to hope.

She let their foreheads rest together for a moment before she squeezed his hands and pulled away, eager to get into bed and surrender to sleep, if only for a while.

Once the door to their bedroom was shut, Max leaned back against it, holding back the tears that had begun to swell in her eyes. Claiming she hadn't found anything wasn't entirely the truth. In fact, against better judgement, she had stumbled onto the coroner and autopsy reports of the five murdered women.

She hadn't wanted to know what Mark had done to them, but something told her that denying anything had ever happened was shameful and a complete disregard for the women who suffered in her place.

Upon reading the details however, she immediately regretted it and thus had to excuse herself for fear of her husband and uncle witnessing her cry. It was perfectly acceptable to weep, understandable even, but she didn't want to be coddled. Though, as she imagined the sharp edge of a scalpel performing a non-anaesthetised caesarean, she couldn't help but want Mike's arms around her.

Her pride however kept her from him and had her fleeing to her bedroom, using the pillow as a poor substitute for comfort.

…

Mike doesn't hear her muffled sobs as he returns to the office to find Ryan staring at the map on the wall, "How is she?" he asked the younger man.

"Not good." He replied truthfully, letting himself fall into the chair, his head in his hands, "I'm worried, man." He admits, "I'm worried she's right and we won't find anything that'll help us stop Mark from killing again." Ryan turned as Mike continued, "Or worse… come after Max." his heart stung as he spoke the latter words.

Ryan shook his head, ignoring them, "We'll get him, Mike. We always do." It was mostly true.

"Yeah, eventually." Mike replies with buoyancy he doesn't feel, "What if this time it's too late?"

"You can't think like that." He knew Ryan was right. None of them should be acting as though they had already lost; as though Mark has since played a hand that includes the trump card. And with it, its game, set and match to the twin. The winner takes all and the loser folds completely.

"I could always go after him." Mike ignores Ryan's thoughts in favour of his own.

"No," the older man decides simply and without consideration.

Their eyes meet, Mike's somewhat confused. "Why not?" he asks.

Ryan sat down opposite him and explains, "Besides the fact that Max would kill me for letting you go, she's your wife and you have a baby on the way." As if he could forget, "It's not just about you anymore, Mike." Of course, it's not. "You have a family. You can't be so reckless." And Ryan remembers a select few having told him the same words years ago. He only hoped Mike would have more sense than him to heed them.

Mike groaned, "I know! Damnit, I know." He cursed, exhaling deeply. Luckily for all their sakes, he certainly knew better. "I just feel like I could be doing more." Though it wasn't like he could be parted from Max either way, especially now.

"She needs you here. So you're staying."

He nods in agreement and adds, "Since when are you so cautious?" Mike wonders, amused by Ryan's sudden and uncharacteristic wisdom.

"Since my niece decided to get with your sorry ass." Their shared laughter was interrupted with a text from Clarke in which a video was attached,

"A nurse discovered this shortly after you left." The agent explains in the message before Ryan presses play.

There's no direct audio, only the frightened hysterics of nurses in the background. The camera records the length of the wall above Grace Newton's - now empty and bloodied - hospital bed. Upon the white of the wall, a few conspicuous words are written threateningly in thick, dripping blood…

"_**MOTHER'S MILK IS RED TODAY"**_

No doubt another message Grace was used to send. Only this required her to perish in order for them to receive it.

"What is it?" Mike asks Ryan in response to his stricken expression.

Ryan hands Mike the device, waiting for his reaction.

Rage bubbled beneath his seemingly calm exterior when he asked, "He was there?"

"Someone was." That much was obvious.

What the sinister words meant however, they were at a loss. Perhaps they were simply a ploy to taunt them; to scare them. Or rather they meant exactly what they read. At this point, they could mean anything.

They knew just how Luke liked to play games and if Mark is anything like his brother had been, this wasn't going to be straightforward – not to any stretch of the imagination. And both men decide whatever the message was supposed to mean, if anything, they won't share with it Max. It wasn't something she needed to see. They saw no need to bring her further down into the power struggle.

…

"You're an idiot!" The words born of anger and irritation bounce off the walls of a seemingly large, hollow room.

A softer, yet equally as aggressive voice retaliated; "Shut up!" the words were followed by a thud, the owner having been pushed to the ground.

"You got cocky and now your list is complete!" The other added, "Tell me, how many women in this city are pregnant and happen to look like Max Hardy?" No answer. "Hmm?" The voice pressed.

Silence replied all that it could, "None! You killed them all!" Though it probably wasn't true given New York City's recent census, there was no time to find others who fit the MO.

"That was the point!" He explained innocently, "What did you want me to do?!"

"I didn't want you to kill them all at once!"

Next, there is an exaggerated sigh, "So, now what?"

"You're gonna have to widen your options."

Finally, the seemingly lesser of the two got to his feet, "You don't mean…"

"What else could I mean?"

* * *

_I apologise for the vagueness of the last part there but i'm being discrete for a reason. You'll understand in the next couple chapters. Remember, the more reviews an author receives, the quicker they are inclined to update. Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think._


	4. Chapter 4

_I noticed some of you were confused by the ending of the previous chapter. I had written it to be vague intentionally, for reasons that'll be revealed in chapter 5, but I hope this chapter clears it up a little. Please read, review and enjoy._

_Warning: This chapter includes graphic and relatively gory depictions. I urge pregnant ladies to avoid reading further._

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**CHAPTER 4**

* * *

Mark had been watching their apartment complex for months but for fear of being seen, he had lingered outside. Regardless, he had managed to familiarise himself with the comings and goings of not only Max and Mike, but also the other residents. One in particular had caught his eye when she stopped to converse with Mike one afternoon. Max had likely informed him about the baby that same day because he returned home with an oversized teddy bear and helium balloon in tow. Apparently, their neighbour too was expecting and had stopped him to remark upon the happy news.

At first, given her lack of similar colouring to Max, Mark had dismissed her.

However, in light of recent circumstances, the blonde in her hair was a variable he was now tasked to ignore – _"You're gonna have to widen your options." _The voice reminds him as he stands by a lamppost, staring bestially up at the silhouette of the fair-haired mother-to-be in question.

…

By the time the wee hours rolled in, Mike decides to give up the search for the night and retire.

"Yeah, I better go." Ryan agrees, "I'll be back first thing." He told the younger man as opened the door to leave. Before stepping over the threshold, he turns and places a reassuring palm on Mike's shoulder, "You'll get through this. We all will." There it was again; that uncharacteristic optimism. As strange as it was coming from the cynical, incredulous Ryan Hardy, at least it was coming from somewhere.

Mike's mouth twitches upwards slightly in an attempt at a half-smile, grateful for the reassurance, "Night, Ryan." He says as he locks the door behind him.

Feeling his eyelids grow heavy, he wastes no time getting to bed. Settling in beside Max, he notices the damp patches of fabric by her face and the way her arms were cocooned around her protruding belly. She had been crying and presumably fallen asleep the same way. The thought urged tears from his own eyes and had him holding her just that bit tighter.

"I love you." He whispers against her skin, hoping his words and arms might make her feel safe somehow.

Max's eyes open then, stirred by his movement, "Don't say it like that."

"Like what?" he asks, trying to read whatever emotions were written on her face.

Her eyes meet his, impossibly woeful than ever, "Like it's the last time I'll hear you say it." And the dejected tone in her voice tells him she believes it very well could be.

He takes her face into his hands, directing her eyes to his in the dimness of the room, "I love you." He proclaims, repeating his previous words. Though this time, far more pronounced and unyielding, "You heard it that time, right?"

She opens her mouth to object but he quickly connects their lips: kissing her words away. It was generally his failsafe when she was either talking too much, or about to say something she shouldn't. And he knew what she was going to say; only he refused to hear any of it.

Instead, he tells her to go back to sleep, "I'll be here to say it again in the morning." He assures her with a slight smirk, kissing her once before relaxing his body against hers.

As he held her, she buries her face into his shoulder. For all her feminist bravado, all she could think now was that she needed him; his arms around her – them. She needed him to hold her and promise her, without words, that they'd find a way through this together. They did before. Why not again?

And for now, Max complies – understanding the point he had made and quite frankly, too tired to fight the pull of sleep, "I love you too." It's barely a whisper but he hears it anyway, fingers reaching for her hair before drifting off into a dream world in which he'd hopefully see her.

Had either of them been awake a moment longer, they'd have heard commotion in the apartment above their own; a short-lived shriek and the shattering of glass.

"The others didn't have as much fight in them." Mark cursed. Though, he supposed that was on account of him drugging them before they were made aware of the situation. This time however, he had to be quick and keeping her alive throughout the procedure was apparently out of the question.

"Don't mess around." That familiar voice had warned him earlier, "Kill her good. You need them to know who's in charge and the rules they thought you'd abide by are yours to change as you will."

With the words drumming through his brain, Mark went about doing what he had been set out to do. He began by lifting her nightdress to reveal the baby bump which seemed to be in its final month of growth, "Perfect." He mused, reaching into his bag to find the scalpel missing.

_Oh well_, he shrugged. The broken shards of mirror would do just the same. Ceremoniously, he took the sharpest edge of glass and punctures the skin at her waist. Then – equally as effortless - he severs the surface of her abdomen, the flesh breaking and falling apart, blood seeping through the crevice. Dropping the piece of glass, Mark inserts both hands into the woman's body, reaching for her child. The amniotic cocoon is burst and the infant breathes its first breath of air.

The customary wail followed and Mark momentarily considers smothering it. "Noisy things, babies." He remarked to no one but the memory of the voice from before reminded him not to harm the children. Dutiful, he places the baby to the side on a pile of blankets and turned his attention to the mother's carcass. He wasn't finished with her.

…

The baby's cry wakes Max later that same morning and fortunately for Mark, the sound hadn't registered as familiar in her mind and she thought nothing of it.

Unlike the previous morning, she wakes up to Mike sleeping peacefully beside her. She thought about remaining there in his arms for a while longer but, she knew the day had to be faced eventually. And hiding under the covers wouldn't make it or its troubles go away.

Sighing heavily, she pulled away from him and sat upright. Somehow, the lump in her chest felt larger than it had been before she fell asleep. It was a feeling beyond that of fear or grief, or the dismal likes.

"Hey," Mike's sleepy voice greeted from behind her, "How you feeling?" he asks, groaning and stretching.

Tired - She felt tired, but not the type of tired that sleep could fix. It was dark and sombre, and though the sun was up and shining brightly, things didn't feel any better.

"I'm okay." she lies, pulling the covers off of her legs to get up.

Mike leaned back on his elbows, watching her move about the room, "You have a doctor's appointment today." He points out, having made it his first fatherly duty to remember when her scans were scheduled.

"I cancelled it." Max replies vacantly, searching for her glasses since she couldn't be particularly bothered with contacts today.

"What? Why?" Mike asks, confused and slightly offended she had made this decision alone. Had she done anything else regarding their baby on her own?

"It's not important right now." She replies, still looking, "Where are my glasses?"

He finds them on his bedside cabinet and hands them to her. Before she could walk away however, he grabs her other hand, demanding her attention, "What do you mean it's not important?" he begins, trying to understand what was going through her mind, "We have to know that our baby's doing okay."

"He kicks all day every day – he's fine." She assures him, pulling her hand free from his grasp.

"And how do we even know it's a boy? That's what this appointment was for." He reasoned, out of bed now. In truth, he had been excited to find out whether they'd have a girl or a boy. He hadn't told Max but, even though they referred to the infant as a boy, he secretly hoped for a girl; one whose beauty and strength could rival only that of her mother's.

Apparently, his wife was less excited than he was, given the silence he received in reply.

"I suppose witness protection is out of the question too?" he mumbles. It was something he had considered in passing and mentioned to Ryan the day before, heedful that Max wasn't listening because he knew what she'd say.

"Absolutely." She says, confirming his initial suspicion. She refused to hide from the inevitable, especially while other women were being killed in her stead.

Mike rolls his eyes, pulling on his jeans, "Of course it is."

Max stops rifling through her clothes to find jeans that would fit and turns around to address his words, "What's that supposed that to mean?" She demands.

"What do you think it means, Max?"

"I don't know, Mike. That's why I asked." She countered, folding her arms across her chest.

He sighs, straightening his back and meeting her gaze, "You said it yourself – the welfare of the baby isn't important right now." He regrets his choice of words the moment he hears them and there's already a flare of rage in her eyes before he can atone for giving voice to them.

"I did not say that." Although her eyes said she angry, the hitch in her throat speaks of a far different, more painful emotion.

Apparently, Mike's tongue felt the need to keep flapping about with words he didn't mean, "Are you sure? That's what I heard."

"Well, you heard wrong." She states, keeping her voice as level as she could manage. "How could you think that?" It wasn't so much a question as it was an insinuation. Max knew she wasn't perfect but she knew also that she cared far more than she should about things she ought not to. When it came to those she loved, including her unborn child, the level of worry and concern consumed her. That fact that her husband would question that conviction… well… it was unbearable.

The pain and betrayal Mike saw in her eyes then nearly brought him to his knees. She may have been in the wrong about cancelling the appointment. And though her wording was poor, the reasoning behind it was fair. And he could admit that he hadn't been, "You're right, I'm sorry."

Although she knew he didn't mean to hurt her, he was and at this point, she didn't need to feel any worse than she already did, "Whatever." She says, shaking her head and left the room.

"Max, where are you going? It's not safe." Mike objected, following her.

Mike watched her open the door, fully intent on leaving the apartment before she suddenly came to a halt. He approaches her from behind, wondering what she was staring at, "What is it?" the sight before them answers his question.

Whatever tension had been between them and the grievances they had with each other in the moments prior seemed to vanish as quickly as Max opened the door.

Directly across the hall from the entrance to their apartment lay their - once pregnant- neighbour: dead, limp and leaning against the wall. It was obvious she had been killed elsewhere, for the only blood to be seen had dried against the bruised, severed flesh at her middle.

Following the initial shock, Mike grabs Max and hauls her back inside. He didn't want her to see any of the horror Mark was intent on raining down upon them. As if simply knowing was torture enough.

"Sh- she doesn't… didn't look like me." Max breathes, on the verge of tears but far too stunned to weep.

Later, Mike would explain to Ryan and Clarke that Mark had intentionally left the body there for Max to find, "He's not playing by the rules anymore." Clarke announced, noting how dissimilar the woman was to Detective Hardy.

Mike scoffed, "He's making the damn rules."

"Weston's right." Ryan states, "She was pregnant too, and that's all that matters." And it was. Of course, it had been a bonus that she happened to be friendly with the couple. Targeting her was a no-brainer now that colouring wasn't an issue.

It made things easier for Mark, but harder for them.

Anything to make them _squirm _just that little bit more.


	5. Chapter 5

_It took me a little while to decide one of two ways to go regarding a twist in this chapter. The one I chose is much more interesting and relatively unexpected as opposed to the other one, which would be far easier to write – but I do like a challenge. I just hope I've written it well enough. I had asked my mother to switch off the wi-fi so I couldn't procrastinate on tumblr, that's how far I went to get this written, people! Whatever, please read, review and enjoy._

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

* * *

Once Clarke and the forensics team arrived, Max secluded herself in the bedroom, eager to be alone. Ryan however had ventured in at one point, checking on her, "Hey Max, you okay?" he asked, worried as the dutiful uncle that he was.

She hadn't replied, rather acknowledged his presence in an effort not to be rude. He figured she had been sitting there by the window for the better part of the day, not moving. She was stubborn that way, unyielding. The world would have to move for her before she would move for it. Yet, once she was committed, she was permanently committed. Ryan nodded to himself knowingly; it was a Hardy trait after all.

"Do you want me to get Mike?" he offered. Surely she'd be in want of the comfort only a husband could give. Mike seemed just about ready to keel over into his wife's embrace.

"No." she answered quicker than he expected.

"Alright. We'll be right outside." Ryan said before closing the door. Seeking solitude was another familial attribute.

Mike hadn't told Ryan about his argument with Max that morning. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last. But unlike the conflicts of his past, they'd forgiven each other and were soon on their way to forgetting. Or rather, their disagreement was perhaps the last thing on their minds at this point.

…

A door slams shut and the sound vibrated across the expanse of the room. "You did well." One voice began, seemingly pleased, "They'll be squirming like worms on a hook." Had it been some medieval torture drama, a hearty yet menacing chuckle would have followed. As it was, this was the real world today and such dramatics were savoured for an ultimate end. And though looming, it had yet to transpire.

"Right." Mark muses absently. His enthusiasm was somewhat lacking in comparison.

A frustrated groan escapes the throat of the other, "What now?"

Mark shrugged, his hands in his pockets, "Nothing." He began, fully intent on the opposite. "It's just… I think we need to be a little more cautious." And it was ironic how cautious he was being in regards to the words he chose. Nevertheless, he was determined to raise the issue and have it heard.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't wanna get caught." He scoffed.

"You won't. As long as you do as I say." The calmer of the two explains. It was all very simple really.

He held up his hands as a gesture of reasoning, "Like going out again later? So soon?" They had to be smart about this.

"Exactly! That's the point - they won't be expecting it."

A heavy sigh drifted into the air, "I think we should lay low for a couple days." Mark replied, keeping himself and his voice small.

A fist slammed on the nearest surface, "Absolutely not!" the owner countered. "We're not gonna let them get comfortable with whatever time they think they have." As if comfort was even an option in the midst of such terror. "Just as you're not going to give them the chance to think."

"But…"

"No buts." He interrupts, having had enough of Mark's excuses. "You're doing this and you're doing it tonight." The tone was equally as demanding as the words.

Mark understood how risky it was going to be. He knew that pushing the envelope further might just cause a tear in their pursuit. And he knew also that he was not the one in charge and he could do nothing more but comply, nodding in submission into the glass void that was the mirror before him.

…

It wasn't until five in the evening before Clarke and his team left. Though they spent the majority of their time in the victim's apartment, searching for clues to help in their investigation, both Max and Mike were bombarded with questions.

"No, i didn't hear anything." Mike answers the same question for the third time.

"Something woke me but I don't know what it was." Max chimes in as she finally joins them in the living room.

Mike takes her hand when she settles on the couch beside him and he's grateful she lets him, "Could it have been the baby?" Ryan asks from the stool by the kitchen counter.

"What baby?" The couple ask in unison.

The agent interviewing them answered, "The victim's baby. It wasn't found in her apartment or nearby." Max cringed at his choice of words. It sounded so impersonal; so cavalier, as though the _thing_ in question was a simple murder weapon or an otherwise discarded tool of leverage.

"She…" Max mused sadly, her eyes drifting elsewhere.

"I'm sorry?"

Her gaze returned to the man questioning them, "The baby. It was a girl." She confirmed.

Mike's hand moved to rub her back, and she looks at him, "She told me last week." Their eyes lock and the fellow felt sorrow is shared between them. Mike remembers how his wife would often confide in the other woman in regards to their kindred condition. They had quickly become good friends and often imagined their children growing together as the same. The bond made the situation just that much more cruel and painful.

Ryan notices how miserable his niece was looking and decided to help in a way he could, "Alright, that's enough." He deems simply and escorts the other man out, allowing the young couple some breathing space.

"She was my friend." Max whispers against Mike's chest, "He killed my friend." With his arms around her, Mike kisses her forehead. He didn't have the words to speak. There were none. What could he say to quell the ache inside her?

It had been hours since that moment she opened the door to reveal her friend – lifeless and limp against the wall; bruised and bloodied. And though the sight was gone, as happens sometimes, an image settles and hovers and remains long after that first glimpse. And sound stopped and motion stopped for much, much more than a moment.

Then gradually, with forensics and coroners, time too reawakened and moved sluggishly on. Mark was still out there, surely intent on killing again. And they were nearsighted. The future lay before them – inevitable... and invisible.

The TV had been on mute for a while but when Ryan returns, he notices the headline rolling across the screen. "Hey, turn that up." He instructed Mike.

Much like the other morning, they listened on in dread, "Another pregnant woman was killed in downtown Queens early this morning. Her profile however is notably dissimilar to that of the six previous victims…" Mike sighs as the news anchor continues on about their neighbour.

"I think we're aware, Ryan." The young agent groans sarcastically, slightly annoyed with Ryan who just had to listen to that which they already knew.

"Wait…" Ryan replies.

Suddenly, an urgent knock at the door drowns out the voice of the broadcaster.

"Someone fitting Mark's description was seen outside Lily Gray's abandoned Art Gallery twenty minutes ago." Agent Clarke announced after letting himself in, "Within five minutes, another woman was abducted from the east side of Central Park."

"Oh God." Max exhales, her face falling into her hands. Could this day get any worse?

"Your men didn't think to look there before?!" Ryan asked. The FBI truly had the capacity for incompetence, "Whatever. He'll be going back. We'll find him there." He proclaimed, grabbing his jacket and gun.

"Wait up." Mike announced, doing the same.

Max stood and reached out to stop him, "What are you doing?"

Mike turns to his wife who hadn't given him that look since the moment they met and his tongue felt the need to belittle both of them. She had looked at him as if he were crazy or just plain stupid for daring to be so. He supposed both. "Max, don't fight me on this." It didn't change his decision however. "You know it's what I have to do."

"No, it's what you _want _to do." She clarifies. "Ryan and Clarke can handle this." Although she didn't much like the idea of her uncle going either, there wasn't anything she could do to stop him. With Mike however, she had a pregnant wife's advantage, "Please?"

"Max…" he almost whined when she gave him those eyes that would bring even the highest of men to their knees.

"No, Mike." Max refused, and approached him. "You don't have to be the hero." It was something she had said before, a long time ago before they had gotten married; shortly after Joe's incarceration. Mike had wanted to pursue Mark on some solo mission he believed to be fool proof. Of course, he himself was still grieving over the loss of his father and nothing seemed more appealing than catching and killing the man who did it. Nothing except the love of a good woman. "Not for me."

It had worked and that shared love gave him the luxury of forgetting Mark and his looming threat. Now, that threat was very much a reality and neither her promise nor the entreating glint her eyes could keep him from ending it.

"Come on! This is a time critical situation here." Clarke reminded them by the threshold.

When Mike turn back to Max, her eyes had hardened and he knew if he didn't leave quickly, there was every possibility she'd throw something at his head again, "I'm sorry." He says quickly before kissing her lips chastely and following Ryan out the door.

Max could've screamed had she the energy to do so.

After instructing the agents outside to remain there and protect Max, they buckled themselves into the Tahoe. "Better not get killed." Ryan warns Mike from the driver's seat, "I'll never hear the end of it."

…

Upon arrival at the Art Gallery, they're surprised to find no squad cars in the vicinity. Apparently Clarke had called off back up so as not to alert the twin and give him time to flee. Snipers however were stationed on the roofs of each building surrounding the gallery. Of course, they knew, stealth was a priority.

"We've got movement." One tells Clarke over his transceiver.

"Alright." Ryan begins, "We'll go in and keep the line open." He tells Clarke, switching on his phone and hiding it in his pocket.

Mike starts toward the building and unsheathes his gun from its holster. Ryan joined him and they entered, involuntarily slamming the door shut behind them.

"What was that?" Mark's head snapped up, his attention averted from the woman strapped to a table.

He approaches the nearest door and through the crack in it's opening, he spots Mike Weston and Ryan Hardy, guns pointed and ready to fire. "You led them here!" Another voice whispers angrily, "Idiot!"

The woman seized the opportunity and screams in an effort to lead whoever was in the next room towards her.

Both Ryan and Mike warily approach a room at the far end of the Gallery's foyer in search of the source of the sudden shriek. Ryan pushes the door open, letting the light flood into the darkened room and a heavily pregnant young woman is revealed.

While the elder man rushes to the woman's aid, Mike maintains the grasp on his gun, his eyes browsing for any movement in the corners of the room.

"We're with the FBI. We're gonna get you outta here." Ryan promises, relieving the woman from her confines.

"Where'd they go?" Mike asked.

"I don't know where he went." She answers distraught, though less so than she had been as Ryan helps her off of the table.

"What about the other? Did you see where the other went?"

She shakes her head, clearing her throat, "There wasn't anyone else."

Mike takes his gaze from the shadows towards Ryan, confused. Surely he hadn't been the only one to have heard two voices.

A single shot is fired and it's only when Mike falls to the ground that Ryan realises it hadn't been he who had pulled the trigger, "Mike!" he yells as the woman screams in fright.

Another shot impacts the air around them and the screaming finally stops.

Ryan doesn't have a chance to reach for his gun before his knees give way beneath him and he joins Mike on the floor, having been kicked from behind.

"Who's there?!" Ryan demands. He drags himself toward Mike, checking on him. He was alive and awake, though barely breathing. Blood seeped relentlessly from a wound in his chest and Ryan could only hope the bullet had missed his heart.

"Just us." A voice finally answers. Mark slowly emerged from the shadowed corner, revealing himself to the two men.

If Mike could move without causing more damage, he'd have launched himself at Mark and ripped the sick bastard apart. With the lack of energy, all he could muster was the hateful fire in the blue of his eyes.

"So, where's Luke?" Ryan asked, mindful of the gun pointed at his head. He supposed the other voice had been Mark's less conservative twin.

Mark chuckles, "Right here, silly." He replies, his neck straightened and a crooked smirk appeared on his face in the split second since Ryan asked his question.

For the second time that day, Mike and Ryan share a look of sheer bewilderment. And it's only as Mark continues, far more confident and outspoken than they recalled, that they realised it wasn't him speaking.

It was Luke.

The twin Max shot. The twin Max killed. The twin who was now truly one and the same with his brother.

"Hey there, Mikey." Luke greets satirically, "Ooh, that's a lot of blood." He remarks, addressing the bullet wound. He turns his head, staring at nothing and no one, "We better get outta here. We need him to survive."

"Survive for what?" Mike demanded, coughing out the words.

The twin turns back to match the direction his gun was facing, "To endure what we've got planned for you." Which twin was now talking however, they didn't know. "You see, we've not been punishing Max… at least not directly," they explain, "We're punishing you, Mike."

"You killed our mother. Your child will know what it's like to live without his." Mike leaned up, ignoring the sharp bolt of pain in his chest.

"Come near my wife and you're both dead." He brutally promises. The flame in his eyes burning with the conviction in his words.

The twins shared chortle is interrupted by the pounding of footsteps and bellowed orders. Clarke and his team were raiding the building.

"We'll see." They conclude before fleeing to the shadows and down into what Ryan supposed was the basement. Had it not been for Mike's waning consciousness, he'd have gone after them.

"Mike! Come on, buddy. Stay with me." He coaxed, adding pressure to the wound to keep the last of his blood from flowing free, "Think of Max. She'll want the opportunity to hound us later for being idiots."

Mike smiles weakly at the thought before blood escapes his mouth, coughing the last breath when his vision begins to blur.

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

_Alright, in case any of you didn't quite understand that – when Luke died, Mark developed a multiple-personality who is basically his twin brother. You can look at it however you like but that's the gist of it. Also, I don't know about you guys but I'm not particularly pleased with the quality of my writing as of late. I don't know what's wrong with me but I feel I've written better. Regardless, you demand and you shall receive. I hope it was worth reading either way. Please review._


	6. Chapter 6

_One month! I haven't updated because of one bloody, stressful, and depressive month. It's no excuse, but I've honestly not had time to sit down and write for anything other than my assignments. I'm just going to get busier as the weeks go by, but I hope to make time to finish this fanfic. I have such wonderful readers and reviewers – I couldn't bear to abandon this before it's complete, especially since there's only 4 chapters left to write. I hope none of you have lost touch with Maxton or my writings in this absence. As always, read, review and enjoy._

* * *

**CHAPTER 6**

* * *

Ryan had called Max from the ambulance and she outright demanded the officer's standing by outside her and Mike's apartment to drive her to the hospital. They resisted at first but she was having none of it and threatened to shoot them if they refused much further.

Max wasn't stupid. She knew the look that passed between the two men communicated something along the lines of, "A crazy pregnant lady with a gun – better do what she says." And she didn't care as long as the latter was done and fast.

Soon after, she arrived at the hospital and found Ryan, "Where is he?" she asked, her brow furrowed worryingly.

"He's in surgery." Her uncle tells her, his hand on her arm in a feeble attempt to reassure her. She avoided looking at his face for fear of finding something that told her Mike was in a bad way and just might not pull through.

No. He will. He must.

Max nods, aware that questions were pointless since she knew just as much as Ryan at this point. Before she collapses from the excursion, she sits down, "What happened?"

Ryan joins her on the bench, taking her hand, "Mark shot him… or Luke did. I'm not sure."

Her brow furrowed further, "What do you mean? I shot Luke. He's dead, Ryan." This was too much confusion for one day.

"I know. It's just Mark has managed to convince himself that his brother never died." He explains, trying to understand it himself, "And it certainly seems like he hasn't." And indeed, it seemed as though, for lack of a simpler explanation, the twins were now one and the same – by all meanings of the idiom.

Before Max could ask anything more, a nurse approached, "Anyone here for Agent Weston?"

As quickly as her condition allowed, Max jumped from her seat, "Yes! We are. How is he?" she inquired in one breath, blue eyes imploring.

The other woman nods, "He's stable." And as soon as she outs the words, the two Hardies sigh in relief. "The bullet was easy to remove and he's been patched up. But he hasn't woken up yet."

"He will though, right?" Ryan asks.

"Nothing is certain right now. He lost a lot of blood and he flatlined at one point." These words were not so reassuring, "But he's in recovery – He was very lucky." She concludes and leaves.

"He would've been lucky not to be here at all." Max mumbles sullenly.

Ryan sighs heavily and pulls her into a hug. Unlike their past embraces, Max pulled away, "You didn't have to go to the gallery. Neither of you did." She remarked angrily, that unmistakable flare in her eyes. Had they listened to her back at the apartment, Mike would be at home safe right now. Why did the two men in her life find it absolutely necessary to let the red they often see cloud their judgement? It was frustrating and quite frankly, downright stupid!

"Max, I-"

"No!" she refused, "There's no excuse for being an idiot." And with that, she stalked off to find Mike's room.

…

The door slammed shut behind Luke and following the abrupt noise, the shrill cries of infants echoes through the expanse of the mansion, "Damn it!" he cursed.

"You gotta learn to be quiet if you want the babies to do the same." Mark tells him.

Luke rolls his eyes, "Whatever." He climbs the staircase and calls, "Sally!" searching for the woman in question.

A young girl, no older than nineteen, appears with two wailing babies in her arms, "Yes, Mr. Gray?"

"Can't you quieten them down?" he says, a grimace on his face while he shields his ears from the sound.

"They're hungry, sir. I can only feed so many." Sally reasoned, somewhat warily.

"There's only seven!" he remarks, as if he knew something about caring for new borns. Rather, it was Mark who took upon himself to help their single wet-nurse in handling the rapidly growing brood.

"Don't worry, Sally. We'll get some help." Mark told her, taking one of the babies, "Do what you can in the meantime." And she relaxed, eased by the calmer and kinder tone of the younger twin.

Initially, she had been confused by the manic nature her employer seemed to possess. But being the simple thing that she was, she merely accepted it and hoped only to encounter Mark. Luke seemed far too brash and a little too assertive for her liking.

She smiled and returned to the nursery to tend to the other children.

Left alone with one, Mark sauntered off to the Solarium wherein he and Luke set out their plans.

Luke set the baby down in one of the Moses baskets that were carefully placed by the flower beds. Sally apparently had been using it to allow the infants to absorb some Vitamin D. She had been forbidden to take them outside in case they were seen by the authorities.

"Ugh!" Luke groaned, sneering at the baby before him.

"What's wrong with you?" Mark asked, tucking the baby in.

Luke took his hands from the child and pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, "I just don't see why you keep involving yourself with them while they're so young." He ignites the lighter, "It's not like they're going to remember you changing their diaper." And brings the flame to light the tip.

Mark forcefully rejects the cigarette from his mouth, "Hey! No smoking around the kids." He reprimands, "And besides, I think it's best for us to get accustomed to one another as early as possible. We're going to raise them after all."

It made sense; Luke couldn't deny that, and it had been a mutual decision to groom the babies of their seven victims – the way their mother had done with them. It was only perfect that it also adhered to their ultimate pursuit.

"Fine. Knock yourself out." He says, "But I'm saving my affections for one particular baby." He declares, a sinister though excited tone in his voice.

It was Mark's turn to roll his eyes, "Your obsession with Max Hardy has reached new heights." And Luke wouldn't deny that either. Ever since that moment he caught sight of her and those perfect lips, he couldn't recall another woman having plagued his thoughts the way she had. At first, he hated her for it and of course, that hatred only made it easier to torture her this way. But he'd be damned if he claimed her lips were the only thing he thought perfect about Detective Maxine Hardy.

_She_ was perfect. And that's all he would say on the matter. If he couldn't have her, he'd have the next best thing – her child.

…

Max found Mike's room and for a moment, she was unsure whether she wanted to venture in and force herself to look at him. He would be asleep, limp and drained of colour – attached to lord knows how many machines. It wasn't a sight she thought she could bear; especially in the knowledge that it may be the last way she'd see him.

_Please be awake_, she prayed, closing her eyes as the door creaked open.

To her surprise and delight, Mike was sitting up and wide awake.

"Hey, baby." He started, his heart lifted to see his wife, but heavy with guilt for being the reason for the concerned frown upon her face.

"Hey," Max breathed, her voice soft as she approached the bed.

She could tell by his apologetic expression what he was about to say when he opened his mouth to speak, "It's okay. I'm just glad you're alive." She cuts him off, there really was no point in crying over spilt milk – no matter how flooded the place was. It's not like he was going to learn anyway.

"What about you? Are you okay?" Mike asks, reaching for her hand.

"We're fine." She tells him, her free hand finds her belly, "He stopped kicking when Ryan called me from the ambulance." Their eyes stare at the bump that was their unborn child, "He started again when he heard your voice." They share a smile, keeping it small in light of the circumstances.

"He knew." Mike marvels.

Max nods, "He did." In the past couple months while she had been able to feel the baby kick, she found that he was most active when his Daddy was around; excited by his presence. Or perhaps it was just simply the infant instinctively picking up on the emotions his mother was feeling when her husband was with her. Either way, they both loved Mike and the thought of losing him was unthinkable.

Lost in her reminiscences, Mike's hand moved to cradle her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw line. Her hand moved to hold his there, staring back at him, letting their eyes do the communicating as per.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, "Can I come in?" Ryan asked by the threshold.

"Sure, man." Mike said.

Ryan enters and stands at the foot of the bed, "Believe me, I don't want to trouble you two with this but… Max?" She looks up at him.

"You're my niece and I love you. I made a promise to your father the night you were born and I'm not going to break it." He announced, "You need to be protected and in a way that we can guarantee your safety."

"Mike and I already discussed this-" she starts, shaking her head.

"Actually, Max. We didn't." Mike adds, "We knew witness protection would be a possibility and you refused to acknowledge that." He continues, wincing slightly as pushed himself up further, "I let you have your way but that was before today."

Ryan's head falls in memory, "They're coming after you, Max."

Well, of course they are, Max thought. The seven murders were the calm before the storm and fortunately for her, they weren't oblivious to it – they had a chance to stop Mark – or Luke - before any more damage was done. Hiding wouldn't solve anything. "I won't go into hiding while more women die in my stead!" she argued.

"I'm sorry, Max. But this is not up for discussion." Both men agree.

Max scoffed, "Excuse me? Isn't this my life we're talking about?"

"It's not just your life." Mike pointed out, "They're taking the babies, Max. They plan on raising them to be just like them." He tells her regretfully, "And that includes our baby."

"And I refuse to let them take either of you from me." The firmness in his voice and the strength in his gaze told Max that the time for arguing was over. Not that there was much left to debate upon – once the baby was mentioned, Max's pride was nothing more than a trifling matter.

"Okay." She finally agreed.

Ryan nods, leaving to search for Clarke who would make it happen.

The couples eyes meet again, "I'm coming with you." Mike adds, as if that too was up for consideration.

At this point in the game, nothing was. It was either do or die.


	7. Chapter 7

_So, here's the seventh installment in which I've added a couple flashbacks to make it just that bit similar to the show. To those who know what was revealed at SDCC about Mike having been gone for four months prior to season 3 – well, I've added that in too, as well as some other things that were confirmed (to make it as close to canon as possible). Though slightly different, it correlates in relation to chapters 7 and 11 of "No Matter How They Toss The Dice". Again, please read, review and hopefully enjoy._

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**CHAPTER 7**

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Once Mike was released from the hospital, he and Max returned home to pack whatever they'd need for however long their protective custody would last. Ideally, they should've left New York a week prior, but due to Mike's condition and Max's insistence for him to remain in the hospital until the doctor said otherwise, they were still in the city.

Despite the validity in her reasoning, Mike and Ryan both knew it was more a case of reluctance on Max's part. Though it was of the utmost importance that they leave as soon as possible, neither men had the heart to argue with her.

"Max, come on. Clarke's waiting." Mike tells his wife for the umpteenth time in the past hour. He knew she was hesitant to go, but now she was stalling.

"But I might need this." She replies, holding up the coffee machine.

"You know you can't drink coffee while you're pregnant." And what a fuss she made about that one four months prior.

"But you can." She points out. "Don't you want coffee?"

He takes the machine from her hands and places it back on the counter. "I'm sure there will be coffee where we're going." Mike chuckles lightly.

Max huffs defeatedly, blowing hair from her face. Mike smiles softly and places his hands on her hips, "What's this really about?"

"It's silly." She shrugs against him, her eyes falling to his chest.

He tilts her head up so as to see her face, "It's never silly if you're fretting over it." He tells her, stroking the ends of her hair. Although Max had a knack for worrying, her reasons for it were never unfounded.

"It's just... we don't know how long this is going to last. What if I go into labour while we're there?"

"So what If you do?" He shrugs, unable to see the significance.

"No one, not even Ryan can know where we are." Max explains, her hands toying with the buttons on his shirt, "I wanted him and Jenny to be there." Of course, she did. They were the only blood related family she had left – of course she wanted them there when another Hardy was born. And Mike felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness because there was absolutely nothing he could do to speed along the process – not if he wanted to remain by her side. They might very well be gone when Max reaches full-term, and they just might be there longer than that. Either way, they couldn't come out of hiding until Mark was detained or dead. _Preferably the latter_, mused Mike.

"Forget it," Max smiles weakly, waving it off, "I guess you'll do." She says, tapping his shoulder and turning away to ponder taking something else she won't need.

"Oh thanks." Mike laughs lightly. He takes her hand, "Come on, we really have to go."

Max sighs heavily, "Fine." She relents and lets him lead her out of their apartment.

…

_**Present day.**_

_**Two and a half months later…**_

"Mike!" Max yells from the bedroom.

Mike pokes his head into the room by the door, "Yeah, babe?" he asks, attentive to his wife's needs.

"I can't get up." She whines, almost pouting. The ache in her lower back wasn't much help.

He had mastered the art of stifling his laughter in amusement to her circumstances. He knew she was having a tough time with the third trimester and that it was only partly because of the stress back in New York. The midwife who made a point to visit every fortnight had warned them to take it easier than one normally would while pregnant. She discovered that it was now a high-risk pregnancy, which didn't make much sense considering Max was only twenty-seven and perfectly healthy. Apparently, sometimes even the healthiest women can have troubling pregnancies for no particular reason that could be found – and they had yet to find one.

With that in mind, Mike had been overly cautious with her. Of course, it didn't take long for Max to notice and she couldn't say she appreciated it. Being coddled like a child was not something she'd willingly partake in.

"Up we get." Mike hoisted her up from the bed with little effort.

Once she was on her feet, Max sighed heavily, "I'm the size of a damn whale, Mike." She wailed semi-dramatically.

"What?" he laughed heartily, unable to contain it. Although the baby seemed slightly larger than the average size at this point, the extra weight had only manifested around her middle, "You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" Mike remarked. How could she look in the mirror each day and not see the beauty that he saw?

"You have to say that - you're the one who did this to me." She huffed.

"I vividly recall it was you who jumped my bones that night." He smirked, leering at her, "You just had to have me."

Max shrugged, "Of course I did. You were leaving me for four months the morning after."

Saddened by the memory, Mike slumped down on the edge of the mattress, "You know it was never by choice." After all, those were, quite frankly, the toughest months of his life.

…

_**Eight and a half months earlier…**_

"I'm not doing this because I want to," Mike argues into the uncomfortable silence between him and his wife, "I don't have much of a choice here, Max." he pleads with her, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

Too upset to allow him to touch her – to fold completely and to finally drop the matter, she stands up from the couch, "You keep saying that." She begins, "But I don't believe for a second that you absolutely_ have_ to go. Because you don't." And he didn't. She knew it; he knew it and yet, he refused to budge. He told her he wasn't doing this to hurt her but that's exactly what he was doing.

Mike dropped his head, unable to face the reality of the pain he was causing her as it shone in her eyes – they always did speak volumes. "I'm sorry, Max." He breathes with a conviction to solve something, anything while in truth, he didn't know what else to say.

"Whatever, Mike." She replies coldly, turning toward the bedroom. She was about to close the door behind her, leaving him to sleep on the couch, when he pressed his hand to the wood. He stood there, staring down at her and when he receives a glare in return, he stands his ground, "We're not leaving it like this." Mike says, and Max groans, turning into the room.

"Like it matters. You're not going to stay if we kiss and make up, are you?" It was intended to be rhetorical but she dared to hope that he'd answer in her favour anyway. He didn't and she found herself more disappointed than she had been an hour ago. "No, I thought not." She mused, that icy tone still thick in her words.

Mike had stepped further into the room, watching her pull her clothes off, far rougher than the damned things deserved. She was probably imagining they were his neck. Mike nodded, he deserved as much, but he meant what he said. He wasn't going to leave with her hating him for doing so.

Clad in nothing but her underwear, she crossed the room toward him, pushing passed him to shower. Mike caught her arm, "Max…" he said softly, wanting her to look at him.

Knowing he wouldn't budge in this either, Max's eyes met his. His heart plummets to his ankles to find that the anger she felt had swelled into sorrowful tears, pooling within her eyes, "Please, Mike." She didn't trust her voice not to break along with their hearts, so she kept it small, "Please don't do this." Max certainly wasn't one to beg, but if it kept him from leaving to pursue what she believed to be a fruitless lead, she had no qualms with reducing herself to it. And if she could hate him for anything, it would be this.

Mike wouldn't atone again, for lack of anything better to say. He couldn't explain his need to disregard her wishes and go anyway. And he positively refused to claim he was doing this for her. Although it was true, she shouldn't be the one to bear that cross should anything happen to him while he was gone. Instead, with his hand still on her arm, he pulled her body into the embrace of his arms.

Max buried her face into his neck, her nose pressed to the pulse-point at its base. She didn't cry, but she let the tears fall from her cheeks and onto his skin. He felt them and his arms instinctively tightened around her, his lips to her forehead. They whispered 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry' and Max couldn't bear it much longer. She pulled back, staring up at him, their eyes saying what their voices couldn't.

Finally, as if accepting the circumstances, Max exhales heavily against him. _There's no use in fretting over the inevitable_, her mother always said. Instead, she reached up and kissed him; softly at first, then he kissed back and she became more forceful, yanking at his shirt, willing it to tear open.

Mike tried to maintain a steady pace, but Max, ever eager to get him naked, pushed him back onto the bed. She only slowed when he sat up to meet her, his hands guiding her hips to straddle his legs. With only her underwear separating them, Mike's hands were full and firm on her back while his mouth teased the sensitive skin at her clavicle. Her fingers clawed at his scalp and he could feel her wedding ring brush against his hair, urging the memory of their wedding night to appear at the forefront of his mind.

They hadn't slept apart in the six months since that night and he suddenly understood the ardency in her pursuit. If he left tomorrow, they'd be sleeping bereft of each other's company for four long months. That thought alone had the power to make him stay because he simply detested sleeping without her – or rather, he couldn't quite sleep at all.

Noticing his affections had ceased, Max eaned back to catch his gaze, "Mike? You okay?" she asked with her hands on the sides of his face.

Breaking out his reverie, Mike gives her a weak smile in reply and adjusts their position on the bed. He places her gently on her back, beneath him. Their lips meet again once, twice before his drift lower down her lean body. She had always been more athletic than him and it showed in the taut muscles of her abdomen. And while he admires the flawlessness of his wife's body, the last of the fabric between them is removed. He matches their heights once again, his forearms resting by her ribcage. His elbows kept his weight off of her while he pressed his skin against hers, no space for even air between them.

He tells her he loves her and he proves it for the next three hours, hoping it might somehow suffice for the time they were to be apart.

…

_**Present day.**_

"It didn't though, did it?" Mike remarks in the world of their shared memory.

They're both lying back on the bed now; Max was on her _'comfortable'_ side and facing Mike, "No. But it did plenty else." She said, referring to the bump between them.

A chuckle rumbled within Mike's chest as he turned to mimic her position. He brought his hand to her belly, resting it there in hopes to feel a kick, "When did you realise you were pregnant?"

"I didn't. Gwen did." She tells him, recalling that one afternoon she spent bonding with her Uncle's new doctor-girlfriend.

…

_**Six months earlier…**_

Initially, Gwen had chosen the café Dulce to meet her boyfriend's niece for lunch, but since Max's ex-boyfriend Chris worked there, they had agreed to meet elsewhere, "Thanks," the younger of the two women began, "We didn't officially end things before I got with Mike. He took it pretty hard when he found out there was someone else." She explains, squeezing her eyes shut in response to a throbbing headache.

"Are you okay, honey?" Gwen asked concerned.

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine." Max waved it off, flipping through the menu.

Gwen surveyed Max carefully, noticing how her nose seemed to twitch slightly. "Is that why you cancelled breakfast? Did you wake up in pain?" she queried.

Max's brow furrowed in confusion, what was she getting at? "Um… yeah, my stomach felt a bit iffy. But it's better now." Before Gwen could say anything else, Max covered her nose with her hand, "Okay, that is gross! You'd think a restaurant would smell better." Apparently she was offended by something no one else in the establishment could smell.

Treading carefully, the doctor made an obvious prognosis, "Max, I know this isn't my place and you barely know me but… is there a possibility that you could be pregnant?" It didn't really take a professional to agree that, given the symptoms, it was indeed a possibility.

At first, Max was shocked by the notion and the boldness in the statement but, as she too pieced two and two together, her eyes widened in realisation. "Oh crap!" She exclaimed.

Max had panicked and worried herself straight to the restroom to vomit. Gwen called Ryan and he met them at the hospital where she'd carry out an ultrasound. Ryan offered to collect a test from a pharmacy on the way but his girlfriend, being a mother herself, knew Max wouldn't want to leave any room for doubt – if she could find out for certain right away, she might as well do so.

The ultrasound concluded that she was two and a half months along and Mike, who was off hunting who he thought to be Mark Gray in a different continent, was none the wiser, "You have to call him." Ryan told Max.

"I can't…" she frowned; her hands and eyes hadn't left her belly since the jell was cleaned away.

After much persuasion, the Hardy stubbornness shone through and Max refused to tell Mike before he came home. She didn't want to risk the chance of him finding Mark in the last six weeks he was gone. No. She would wait.

…

_**Present day.**_

"Then Ryan just had to blurt it out over the damn phone two weeks later." Max cursed, shaking her head. Apparently she was still pissed at her uncle for being so careless.

In the end, Mike had only been gone for three out of the four months that was originally planned. Once he found out that Max was pregnant, he booked the first flight to New York and went straight to her, like the dutiful husband and future father that he was.

Though of course, Max had been right about the false lead, so it didn't matter much that he missed the last month of the proven fruitless search. He was more concerned with having missed the first trimester of Max's pregnancy, "You didn't miss much." She assured him. She had only started showing slightly before he returned.

Mike opened his mouth to speak when suddenly, a sharp pain in Max's lower back caused her to wince, "What was that?" Mike asked immediately, sitting up.

"Nothing. My back just hurts is all."

"What?!" Mike starts, jumping out of bed and over to her side. He placed his hands on the area in which he believed the pain to be coming from, "Is it sore here?" he asked, adding a little pressure to the base of her spine.

"Ow!" she breathed, "Yes. Can you not?" she tried to push his hands away, irritated with him.

"Has it been hurting all day?" he asks and she nods. Mike's hands found hers and carefully manoeuvred her to face him. He knelt down in front of her, "Okay, don't freak out, but the midwife warned me about this…"

"Warned you about what?" Max interrupted, her concern peaked, "Why were you talking to her without me?"

"I wanted to know what I should do if you go into labour before your due date." He explains. They were stuck in a house nestled within the mountains of god only knows where – the nearest hospital was an hour helicopter ride from them, and Mike figured it was smart to be prepared.

"Right," Max nods, "Which is in two weeks."

"Yeah but… I don't think this baby's going to wait until then." She looks at him in disbelief, as if he was joking because she certainly wasn't in the mood for his jests.

She shakes her head and pushes herself up from the mattress. Before she has a chance to tell him to quit it, her water breaks.

**To be continued...**

* * *

_I apologise if anyone gets confused with the layout and the flashbacks, but I hope it's simple enough to comprehend. And if you're wondering why the twins weren't in this chapter, it was intentional. Like it was stated, Mike and Max wouldn't have any knowledge of the goings on outside their little utopian swallow – it's strictly from their POV, so you guys don't get to know what's going on in regards to the investigation, or the Grays' schemes either (not until the next chapter, that is). I hope that makes sense. Thanks for reading._


	8. Chapter 8

_Well, it seems the flashbacks were quite popular in the previous chapter so I'll definitely make sure to incorporate those where I can in these final three chapters. They were fun to write, after all. In other news, I've been asked a lot about a possible sequel and if you don't follow me on tumblr, you'll not have seen that I have an idea which I could possibly develop into one. Let me know, if you haven't already, if a sequel is something you'd be willing to read. Otherwise, please read, review and enjoy._

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**CHAPTER 8**

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"I knew it wasn't regular back pain!" Mike said as he hurried about the room, packing a bag for them both while they waited for the helicopter to arrive. Max had outright refused to give birth at home and although her water had just broken, it was more than likely that the baby wouldn't arrive for another few hours at least. They had time but apparently, it had yet to register with Mike who was panicking enough for the three of them.

"Mike, sit down! You're making me nauseous." Max sighs, one hand behind her on the bed to keep her upright and the other on her lower belly. The pain that had manifested early in the morning as a dull ache, had grown more frequent and painful throughout the day. Initially, she just thought it was the baby moving around a lot but in all the time she was able to feel him, it hadn't felt quite like this.

"It's contractions. I knew it was as soon as you told me where it hurt." Mike adds, zipping up the bag and grabbing the phone from the bedside cabinet.

Max rolls her eyes. He spends two days practicing how and where to cut the cord and he fancies himself a birthing expert, "Sure, Doctor Weston." She jests through the pain, "Who are you calling?"

"I'm texting Ryan."

They could do that? "We can do that?" she asks confused. They hadn't once contacted anyone for the entirety of their stay there. Max simply assumed it was forbidden. He had made a fuss about restricting their internet usage for fear of being hacked and discovered by Mark. "Do you honestly think he's smart enough to bypass my blockers?" she scoffed one morning Mike had slammed the laptop lid down.

Of course he wasn't, but that didn't mean his endless resources couldn't. He inherited billions of dollars from the death of his mother – he could easily hire himself some expert hacker to do the deed for him. Despite her unmatched tech-savvy, Max was inclined to agree that even she was no match for the genius boy-wonder who spent the better part of his adolescence hacking into top secret organisations just for the fun of it.

And if the internet server wasn't safe, what was to be said about landlines and cellular signals?

"No, but before we left New York, I told him how you wanted him and Jenny to be there." He explains, sitting down next to her, "They've been staying in town for the past week. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd want to call them, but this was the only time we were permitted to use the phone." That made sense.

"They have?" she asked softly, surprised that her Aunt and Uncle had dropped everything, including their differences, to standby and wait for their beloved Niece to go into labour so they could be there for her.

Mike nodded, rubbing her back gently, "Of course. They'd do anything for you, Max." As she'd do anything for them. Family was the most important thing to Max. At the end of the day, it's all one has and it's the only thing, she believed, one could trust to endure. Of course, they'd be there - Jenny had been the one to offer upon hearing the news and as for Ryan, well… when Mike had asked, he didn't think twice about his answer.

…

_**Two and a half months earlier… **_

Ryan had told Agent Clarke that he would take Max and Mike to the airstrip to board the plane out of the city. However, he started to regret it once he saw the look on his Niece's face when she stepped out of the car.

Excluding the time she followed Giselle to Connecticut, and again when she visited Mike's family in Virginia, Max hadn't been out of New York State for longer than a week since she was born. If that wasn't telling enough, the woeful expression on her features said plenty.

"Come on, Max. We have to do this." Mike encourages in response to the sigh she made certain everyone could hear. If she didn't slap him, Ryan would.

She turns to glare at him, "Did I say anything?" she snaps, huffing and storming off toward the plane. Ryan laughed lightly. That'll do.

"Max!" Mike yells across the airstrip. She hadn't said goodbye to her Uncle.

Without turning, she flipped him off. And he knew that, with her heightened emotions and the less-than-ideal circumstances, she only half meant it.

"I'll talk to her." Ryan assured the younger man who was also having a tough go of it, "It'll be alright, Mike. We'll find him." He pats Mike's shoulder, "Preferably before Max reaches full term."

"Yeah, about that…" Mike starts, "Max really wants you and Jenny to be there. And I know it'll be difficult but..."

"We'll be there." Ryan interrupts before Mike could finish. Though, given his answer, there was not much point in hearing.

"Are you sure?" Mike asks. It would be risky. Mark is sure to be watching Ryan once Max disappears and it'd be the perfect opportunity to lead him to her. But if anyone knew how to lose a tail, it was Ryan Hardy.

Ryan nods, "For Max? Of course." And that was plenty explanation for Mike. After all, he too could never deny her anything.

…

_**Present day**_

Aware they had time left to kill until the air ambulance landed, Mike got Max into a warm bath as per the midwife's advice. She claimed the heat and pressure of the water would help with early contractions and so far, it seemed to be working. "How're you feeling?" Mike asked as he knelt by the tub, his forearms resting on the rim.

"Better." Max breathed, letting the scented vapour fill her lungs; soothing her senses. She stared down at the globe protruding above the surface of the water and she thought, for the first time since she realised she was pregnant, how she was going to miss it. No, she wouldn't miss the graceless waddling, or the constant heartburn; or even those nights when she'd wake up in the wee hours, craving some strange concoction of food – Mike especially wouldn't miss those nights. No, she'd miss having her child inside of her – safe in the shelter of his mother's womb – safe and oblivious to the world that awaits him.

Max knew she worried far more than she ought to, both Ryan and Mike made a point to remind her each time she did. But she couldn't imagine she was wrong in this. Like any mother, she'd want to protect her child from anything and everything, but most children's parents don't have prices on their heads. And she hated that, should Mark continue to elude them, their child too would remain a target for the Gray family vengeance. And quite frankly, it's not a life she could be happy living.

"Henry…" Mike offers absently into the silence, his fingers trailing through the water.

"What?" Max asks, wondering why Mike had suddenly mentioned her father's name.

His gaze meets the confusion in her eyes and he takes her hand in both of his, bringing it to his lips, "I think we should name him Henry." He kisses her knuckles, toying with her wedding ring as he waits for her reply. The idea had been circling his mind for the past few months and he hadn't mentioned it before because they agreed not to think so prematurely. Despite the constant peril they were stuck in, Max had scared herself nauseous one day as she read up on the statistics of miscarriage. She believed, if he was taken from them by natural causes, having named him prior to the loss might somehow make the pain all that more significant. Though of course, it couldn't be true but, not one to pray for tragedy, Max wouldn't risk it.

And although the baby had yet to be born and the risk was higher than ever, she couldn't help but smile warmly at the sentiment, "I love you." She told Mike, her eyes bright and shining with the love she felt.

Before Mike could reach over to kiss her, her grip on his hand tightened suddenly – her knuckles white with the pain of another contraction.

"Remember your breathing." Mike urged, placing his free, uncrushed hand on top of hers.

"Oh! Ow!" she hissed while her face contorted into a grimace.

His free hand moved to stroke her belly, "Are you sure we have time to get to the hospital?" he asked.

"Yes!" Max replied, her eyes gradually opening as the pain subsided, "I'm fine."

Mike regarded his wife with equal measures of relief and scepticism, but decided not to press the issue further. He knew that, while he was fully equipped to deliver the baby himself, he certainly wasn't prepared for it. And since he wasn't currently the one in labour, he decided it was solely Max's choice. If she wasn't to give birth in the safety of the hospital, then that's what she'd get.

"I better get out now. The chopper will be here soon." She added, gingerly sitting up out of the water. Mike grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her while simultaneously helping her up and out of the tub.

Max hated being so damn near incapacitated that she needed help doing the simplest of tasks such as dressing herself. Not that Mike minded helping her. It wasn't often that Max needed him for anything – she was a woman of her own and a prideful one at that. But she also had a husband who would kneel at her behest and when she could admit that she needed him, he was there waiting.

When the air paramedic offered a wheelchair however, she practically shoved it back at him, offended by the very idea that she couldn't walk a hundred yards to the helicopter, "Don't be difficult, babe." Mike said gently, buckling up her seatbelt when another contraction hit.

"Mike, I swear if you say anything else I'll kick your ass out of damn the window in flight!" she winced, gritting her teeth with her eyes flaring. And for the rest of the ride, he only cooed and coaxed her to maintain her breathing. No such threat was executed.

Meanwhile on the hospital's landing strip, Ryan and Jenny waited impatiently for the air ambulance to arrive with the young couple, "Do you think they're alright?" Jenny paced in front of her brother.

"Yeah, though I'm sure Max is calling Mike's manhood's veracity into question." Ryan chuckled at the thought. He knew Max and though cool-headed, when she was in pain, she could be quite intolerant. He'd be surprised if Mike didn't fear for his life at this point in the labour.

"No, I mean… with that Gray boy." She uttered tentatively, not knowing of all the details. Ryan had told her was all that she cared to hear and she had a feeling that it wasn't a lot in regards to the full extent of the situation. She knew only that Mark was after Max and he was killing pregnant women to taunt her and Mike simply in the name of revenge.

However, despite Max's initial concerns, there had been no reports of abductions or murders since they had gone into hiding. Ryan felt cruel to say it but, it would help in the search for him if he abducted at least one more victim. With nothing more to go on other than a motive, they had no hope of finding him. At one point in the investigation, he and Clarke had an agent go undercover as a decoy to lure Mark out. Unfortunately, it was to no avail and the operation went nowhere fast.

"There's agents stationed at every entrance of the maternity ward, and snipers on the roofs outside. He won't get close." He assured her, fully confident that all would be well.

Finally, the chopper landed and no sooner was Mike, Jenny and Ryan ushering Max toward her room. Once she was settled into the hospital bed, dressed in the ceremonial gown and hooked up to heart monitors for both her and the baby, Mike found himself able to relax.

While the nurse worked on Max, Jenny approached Mike, "Driving you crazy, huh?" she asked with a smile.

"Apparently I'm the one driving her crazy," he explained, "She nearly tore my hand off on the way here."

Jenny giggled, "Her Mom was the same. I think she broke Ray's pinkie giving birth to Max." Although Jenny was only nineteen and Ryan was twenty-three at the time, they had been in the hospital that night – supporting their big brother during the birth of his daughter.

…

_**Approximately twenty-seven years earlier**_

Twelve hours. It had been twelve hours since Ray had called his siblings, telling them to get to the hospital because their baby niece was about to be born. Twelve hours later and she had yet to make an appearance.

Ryan would've rather been at home sleeping. He was never one for babies and besides, he could see her in the morning. At least then she was likely to be out by then. "Can they hurry it along? I wanna go home." He complained across the waiting room to his younger sister.

"Shut up, Ryan!" Jenny rolls her eyes, "Once you see her little face, you'll forget you ever hated kids."

"Hm… yeah, I doubt it." He replies, slumping down in the chair like a sullen child.

Twenty minutes later and their brother finally appeared with a small bundle of pink in his arms.

Ray beams proudly down at the infant, "Guys, this is Maxine." He introduces them.

Jenny is up and out of her seat quicker than Ryan, hurling toward them. She looks down at the baby, past the soft pink material of her blanket and gasps. She looks up at Ray in shock.

With that, Ryan is suddenly alert and he approaches slowly, "What is it?" he asks, peering over Ray's arm.

The eldest of the siblings wastes no time in getting his brother acquainted with his Niece, "See for yourself." And he gently places her into Ryan's wary arms.

At first, Ryan didn't see what Jenny had. He saw a newborn baby with a tussled head of dark hair and a cute button-nose. Then, she opens her eyes and stares up at her uncle for the first time and he realises.

Those eyes.

Not the clouded deep grey of a newborn, but the bright blue of his mother's. The eyes he hadn't seen in the ten years since her death. The eyes Max had inherited down to the last speck of cerulean.

"She's beautiful." Jenny muses, hugging her eldest brother and staring at the baby in the other's arms.

Ryan hadn't taken his eyes from baby Max, marvelling at the small, delicate creature within his tentative grasp. And he realises that Jenny had been right, "She's perfect." He whispers.

…

_**Present Day**_

While Jenny and Mike conversed by the window of the large maternity suite, Ryan sat by his niece, holding her hand and staring at her as if it were for the first time all over again. Ryan regretted a lot of things in his life, but when it came to his family, he mostly regrets not having had a relationship with Max for fifteen years after her father died. He missed seeing her transform from a girl into a woman and what he considered the worst thing about it was, Max didn't have a father-figure in those years a girl so desperately needs one. With his brother gone, it was his job to be her dad, and he hadn't been.

Max broke her gaze from the baby's heart monitor over to her Uncle, "What?" she asks, curious to know what he was thinking.

Ryan shrugs, tearing his eyes away from her scrutiny.

"No, tell me." She insists, squeezing his hand, though more out of pain than insistence.

"I was thinking about your Dad." He begins carefully; it was always a sore subject to mention, "He'd be so proud of you, Max. I wish he could be here for you." His thumb caresses her hand, mindful of the saline drip.

"I miss him." A lump forms in her throat, "I miss home." She admits with a sigh.

Then Ryan's phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, reading a text from Clarke. "Yeah…" he replies absentmindedly, forgetting what Max had said.

"How's it going, by the way? Has the case gone anywhere?" she asks in hope.

At the mention of the investigation, Ryan's eyes dart up to meet hers again. "Don't think about that right now." He encourages, leaning over to kiss her forehead, "Listen, I gotta go..." he says as he starts toward the exit.

Max tries to sit up, alerted by her uncle's abrupt need to leave, "What? Ow!" she yelped as another contraction hits her, falling back down against the pillows. Mike and Jenny are by her side in an instant.

"I'll be right back, I promise." Ryan concludes before fleeing out the door.

Despite being in agony and needing a firm hand to break, Max gestures Mike to follow her Uncle and find out just where he thought he needed to be. "Ryan, what's going on?" Mike catches up with him in the corridor.

Ryan kept moving through the hall, ignoring Mike. Annoyed, the younger man grabs his shoulder to stop him. Ryan relents with a sigh, "Two agents have been killed near the rear exit."

Mike's heart drops instantly, "Mark's here?!" The blue in his eyes spark with an anger that only the mention of the Gray family could alight.

Ryan places a firm, reassuring hand on Mike's shoulder, though he was inclined to hold him back, "He won't get close to Max, I promise you." And unlike the promise he made to Max not two minutes ago, it was one he was sure to keep.

"Give me a gun - I'm coming with you." He declares, determined to end this once and for all. If he missed the birth of his child, then so be it – at least Max was safe – that's all he cared about at this point.

Then, as if on cue, an anguished scream pierces the air of the maternity ward. A few choice words follow on his tail, telling them Max was close to having to push. Jenny pokes her head out of the threshold, "Mike, you better get back in here!" she demands.

"You heard her." Ryan instructs, "Get in there and be with your wife. She needs you." And he doesn't give him a chance to argue any longer, running off down the corridor toward the stairwell.

Mike considers following him for a moment but he was right. Max needed him and though she may never voice it, she'd never forgive him for missing the birth of their first born. They had been through so much no couple should have to endure and if they were allowed even the simplest of pleasures, they'd relish it. However, Mark – or Luke - was somewhere in the hospital, making his way toward them. Could he really leave it up to Ryan, Clarke and the other agent's to find him?

Another loud cry from Max decided for him. Yes, he would have to and he quickly makes his way back to her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Mike asks, his face awash with stress and concern, while trying to hide the underlying reason for both. Jenny informs him that Max is fully dilated and will have to start pushing. Apparently, she was reluctant to do so just yet.

"Where's Ryan?" Max exhales, unable to focus on anything – the pain blinding each one of her senses. Mike notices and he moves to sit behind her. She was seated upright on the bed, leaving room enough between her back and headboard. He loops his arms beneath hers and places their conjoined hands atop her knees which the midwife had propped up. Jenny stood by the bed, patting down her Niece's forehead with a damp washcloth, "Keep breathing, honey." She reminds Max.

"Where. Is. Ryan?" Max repeats her previous question through ragged breaths, for not having received an answer the first time.

"He'll be back, don't worry." Mike assures her, placing a kiss behind her ear, "You have to focus now." And she leans back against him, trying as she might to maintain consciousness.

She had wanted an epidural, to relieve the pain, but due to the high-risk in her pregnancy, it was advised not to have one administered. Now, as the pain of contractions started to pale in comparison to the level of pressure, she started to regret the decision to refuse one.

With the midwife's go ahead and Mike's encouragement, Max starts to push, bearing down on the constant waves of agony.

All the while, Ryan meets Clarke and his team on the stairwell who seem strangely lost, "What the hell is going on?" Ryan demanded, finding spatters of blood running down the wall, the owner nowhere to be found.

"HRT are on the opposite wing of the building. They've reported another three casualties – two security guards dead and a nurse wounded." Clarke informs him as they descend the stairs.

"And you can't find the perp?" Ryan inquires, wondering if anyone had seen anything besides those already dead.

"Agent Crawford here got a shot at a guy fitting Mark Gray's description." Clarke mentions the man on his right, "That was his blood back there."

"And where's he now?" Ryan demanded.

"He knocked me out cold before Agent Clarke found me. I don't know where he went." Crawford chimed in.

"We figured he retraced his steps and went back downstairs to find another way in since you never saw anyone on the way down." No, he hadn't. Oddly, not even hospital staff. Something didn't seem right.

They reach the bottom of the stairwell and split up. Ryan, Clarke and Crawford take the first exit they comd across, "He won't get far. Agents are stationed at every exit."

"He killed two of those agents, remember?"

Crap!

"Idiots!" Ryan cursed, pushing past the men and out into the back alleyway behind the hospital. He looks left and then right when he hears a thud emanating from the side of a large medical waste bin. He unsheathes his gun from its holster and approaches slowly; stealthy enough not to alert whomever was hiding.

Recalling his early training at Quantico, Ryan shuffles back against the wall before turning to point his weapon at the target. Once he does, he discovers there was no need for the gun at all.

The man, dressed in black and a baseball cap shielding his face, lay dead and limp against the brick wall. The gunshot wound from Agent Crawford had clearly been fatal, but from a closer glance, the space between his thumb and forefinger had been bitten, as if to release a cyanide pill – a tactic used by loyal followers.

Ryan kneels before the body and slowly, slightly hesitantly, lifts the cap off of his head, "It's not Mark." He shuts his eyes in despair, "It's a decoy…" A man dressed to resemble the twins had been but an element of subterfuge to distract the authorities.

Mark had been in the hospital all along.

* * *

_I think I've never before written a worse ending but oh well, you get it. Two chapters left folks. Thanks for reading._


	9. Chapter 9

_And here we are, the second to last chapter. It'll be short compared to the previous two, but it'll do. It gets a bit fluffy at times, but that's only to be expected. I wish I had written flashbacks in the earlier chapters, I really quite like the addition. Perhaps I'll go back and add them, give you all some new "Vendetta" material once it's finished. One more chapter left, folks. Please read, review and enjoy._

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

* * *

Mark hadn't been the one to leave the building and was likely closer to Max than he had been before their chase for the decoy. It was all working out in his favour.

"Get your team to the maternity ward now!" Ryan instructed Clarke, "Don't give him the chance to get to her."

Pulling out his phone, he text Mike, making him aware of the situation.

"Mark's in the building. I'm handling it, but be alert." The message read.

Mike checked his phone only when Max slumped back against him, regaining her breath in between pushes. He maintained his poker face as best he could, but he was sure Max could feel the quickened pace of his heart against her spine. If she had, she didn't say anything and though anxious, he decided it was best to keep her in the dark about the goings on outside of the room. She was having a difficult time with the labour as it was.

Unlike her niece however, Jenny had noticed the momentary lapse in Mike's composure. She too said nothing and instead, eyed him warily over the top of Max's head. Something was going on and she was certain it was the reason for Ryan's sudden departure.

"You're almost there, Max." The doctor coaxed, "Just a few more pushes and the shoulders will be out."

Just? A few? "Ugh!" Max groaned as roughly as her waning energy would allow. It felt like she had been pushing for hours when in truth, it had only been twenty minutes, "I can't," she objected, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Max, you have to." Mike urged, "We got this far. Don't you dare give up now." He wouldn't coddle her. No. He found that, with Max, tough love worked best in motivating her. Besides, he daren't let her give in after everything they've been through to get to this point. He wasn't having any of it.

Max turns to stare at Mike, her hair tussled and her eyes heavy with lethargy. Though his words weren't particularly comforting, his gaze was softer than ever and the endearing depth of it was the rest of that which she needed to continue pushing.

She looked to her Aunt who was smiling brightly. She nodded in encouragement and it began again.

Her hands reconnected with Mike's, now able to hold on with all of the strength that remained within her. She could hold her focus the way they insisted that she should. And finally, she was again compelled to bear down on the constant waves of agony that were seemingly endless.

She pushed and pushed harder.

Then, with a final strangled lament, it was over. A shrill, reedy wail pierced the air and suddenly, there it was – there he was. He cried with all the intensity that was humanly possible.

Max glanced up at Mike then and the blue of their eyes locked: blood-shot and fatigued. He presses his lips to her temple as she reached for their son.

The midwife placed the baby in his mother's fatigued but eager arms.

"Look what we did." Max breathes, staring down at the little person she and Mike had made.

As Mike's eyes met his child's for the first time, he thought that perhaps miracles do happen. Sure, a baby may be born every minute, but that didn't mean each one was less of a miracle than the first.

As tears swell in his eyes, Max's own watered gaze meets his, "I love you." She mouths as Jenny coo's over the newborn. Mike smiles widely and kisses her with his reply.

He had been anticipating the moment since he found out he was to be a father.

_**Six and a half months earlier…**_

"Is Max okay? She hasn't been answering my calls all week." Mike asks Ryan over the phone one morning he was gone. In truth, Max had been rather cold to her husband since his departure two months prior. Not that he could blame her but recently, she seemed distant; distracted – it made him miss her snarky remarks.

"You should talk to her." Is all that Ryan manages, bearing in mind that Max asked him not to tell Mike about the pregnancy. In point of fact, he was sure Max was dodging Mike's calls because she was afraid of telling him herself. Of course, he had a right to know and he would eventually, but what he was doing was important. Despite her wishes against it, she knew that and given her recent discovery, his pursuit was only that much more significant.

Mike groans, "I would if she picked up the damn phone!"

Ryan nods, but says nothing, keeping his tongue from flapping.

The younger man sighs heavily, "I miss her so much, especially at night." They are the worst part of the day for missing someone, Ryan agreed. It's a time where the distractions of the day have slipped away and all one is left with is thoughts and longings. Mike thought he might be suffocate if he endured another night of insomnia.

"She misses you too." Ryan tells him.

"She does?" Of course, she does.

"Yeah." He nods, "She tries to hide it but… it's difficult not to notice when she's moping around, staring at pictures of you on her phone." It'd be funny if it wasn't so pitiful, "She even seems more aware of her wedding ring." Mike could imagine her, typing away at her computer – intent on finishing some work when the white gold of her ring catches a gleam of light, distracting her.

"Just give me one reason, Ryan. One reason and I'll book the first flight home."

Ryan chuckles nervously.

"What's funny?" asked Mike, curious to know why he was laughing. It wasn't a common occurrence, after all.

Ryan coughs, clearing his throat, "Huh? Never mind." He kicks himself for slipping up.

"Come on, man. I wanna laugh too." Mike urges.

The elder of the two sighs. He might as well tell him. He was surely going to face the wrath of his niece at some point or other. "Well, it's not so funny." says Ryan.

"Oh?"

"There is one reason for you to come home…" he trails off, still unsure.

Mike listens to silence for a moment, waiting for Ryan to continue, "Which is?" he presses.

"She's gonna kill me for this." He mumbles to himself before letting it out, "Max is pregnant."

"That isn't funny." Though taken aback, Mike replies instantly.

"I'm not joking." Ryan confirms.

A silence ensues. All Ryan could hear on the other end was typing and the clicking of a mouse.

"Mike?"

"I'll be at JFK in about four hours." He tells Ryan eventually, "Don't tell Max, since she likes to keep secrets." The tone he ends the call on isn't an elated one, rather emotionless and determined.

He appears the same way when Ryan picks him up at the airport four hours later. Not a word is spoken on the drive to his and Max's apartment.

_**Present Day**_

"I'm going to kill Ryan." Max curses, "Where the hell is he?" She demands, handing the baby to his father. Mike remembers she had said the same thing that night he suddenly appeared at the threshold after two and a half months of being gone.

"I'll go see if I can find him." Jenny offers.

"No!" Mike objects. He couldn't let her leave the room - Mark and whoever else was sure to be killing anyone in their path.

Max's brow furrows in confusion, "What do you mean 'no'?" She asks, "Where is he, Mike?" After three years of knowing her, Mike knew what that tone meant and it meant to tread carefully, because she was sure to know if he was lying.

When he opened his mouth to speak, Ryan appeared, "Hey, what'd I miss?" He starts, stepping into the room to find his niece's anger directed toward him. She glared daggers at him and he mused, _Jeez! If looks could kill._

That's when he noticed the bundle of blue in Mike's arms, "A boy?" He asks softly. Jenny nods proudly, her arm around Max's shoulders.

Ryan approaches Mike, peering down at the newest addition to the Hardy clan, "He's perfect." He admires, just as he had done upon meeting Max that first time. Yes. The boy was just as perfect as his mother.

"What do we call him?" Ryan asks, offering his finger to his 'nephew' to grab with his tiny hands.

Mike and Max exchanged looks. His questioning; hers confirming with a smile.

"Henry." Mike affirmed, his eyes glued to his son, not willing to let him go just yet.

"Henry Richard." Max adds, surprising Mike with the middle name.

They had discussed naming him after her father earlier that day, but Max had Mike's father's name in mind throughout the entire pregnancy. She knew what it would mean to Mike to have their son named after both of his Grandfathers.

Ryan and Jenny too were happy with the couple's choice. They only wished their brother could be there to meet his Grandson.

"He's here," Max offers into the silence, having noticed the regretful expressions on her Aunt and Uncle's faces, "He never left." She claims. She liked to think so growing up – it helped to believe that he was.

Ryan approaches Max, hugging her gently and kissing her forehead, "Of course, he is."

"So? Where were you?" Max demands, certainly not letting it slide.

He considers telling her the truth but, as it was, I didn't matter and she needn't worry about it, "It's over now." He promises and when she opens her mouth to object, he shakes his head. She knew he'd tell her if she needed to know.

Mike however, wasn't as easily subdued. He reluctantly hands the baby to Jenny before turning to Ryan, beckoning him out into the hallway.

Max watches warily as the two men leave, unsettled.

"It's over?" Mike asks.

"He's still in the building but this ward is secured." Ryan confirms, "They'll find him, Mike."

Mike wouldn't say anything more on the matter. He could go out himself and help in the search for Mark, but he wouldn't be parted from his wife – not now. Ryan left again to join Agent Clarke, he wasn't going to wait around helplessly while his niece's life was threatened.

A nurse came into the room when Max was finished nursing for the first time, "Hi, I'm Sally. I'll just take him down to the nursery for a little while." She greets, "Give mommy and daddy a rest." Mike didn't object for he knew the nursery was in the same ward and he'd be safe. Max was too tired to argue and the let Sally do her job.

Jenny excused herself to get some snacks, leaving the new parents alone.

Max turned onto her side, mindful of the remaining bump at her middle. Mike settled in the chair beside the bed, his hand in her hair with his free one holding hers, "You did it." He remarks softly, toying with her wedding ring as her eyes drift shut to sleep.

…

"I have him." Mark listens to the wet-nurse Sally tell him over the phone.

"A boy then?" Luke sneers, "Perfect."

He reaches the top of the stairwell leading into the maternity ward. Through the window in the door he could see armed guards waiting for him should he attempt to elude them, "There's no way in." Sally tells the twins over the call, "I had a tough time getting out."

Luke curses, fisting his hand and punching it into the wall. Mark rubs his reddened knuckles, "We have the baby. He'll have to do."

"That wasn't the plan! Max has to die for Mike to suffer!" Luke argues, frustrated that it wasn't going his way.

"Do you wanna die?!" Mark counters, "Because I don't!" he concludes, "Sally, we'll meet you in the car." And he ends the call, taking the upper-hand for once and retreating back downstairs and out of the hospital while the authorities searched elsewhere.

…

Ryan met his sister on his way back to the room. She clocked his receiver and questioned him, "What's going on, Ryan? Is that Gray boy here?"

"We can't find anywhere. He likely left when he realised he couldn't get to Max." Ryan tells her, "Agents are surveying CCTV footage right now."

They come upon the room to find both Mike and Max asleep. Mike had his head on the mattress beside Max whose hand had netted itself in his hair, "How'd she do?" the elder of the siblings inquired.

"Wonderfully." Jenny marvelled, "Ray would be proud."

Ryan hugs his sister tightly, thankful that he has her, Max and now baby Henry, "We should go see him. A nurse took him down to the nursery." said Jenny.

"What?" Ryan starts, suddenly alert, "I specifically told the nurses on this ward to keep him with Max." He runs to the desk, slamming his fist down to grab the woman's attention, "Who took the baby from that room?" he demanded, pointing to Max's room.

"No one, sir." The startled girl replied, "You told us not to."

"Her name was Sally." Jenny adds, hoping there had been some misunderstanding.

The girl shook her head, "There's no Sally working here."

No.

It couldn't have been.

Ryan wasted no time and ran down to the nursery in hopes that he was there. He barged into the room filled with infants who had started crying in response to the sudden noise. He read each name tag on the cots and found no child of Weston-Hardy.

He was gone.

* * *

_Firstly, I know Max's dad's name is Ray but it could certainly be short for Henry, hence the baby's name. Secondly, I was going to add more to the end of this chapter, but I think I prefer to leave it on a cliffhanger – there's a couple twists left to come. Lastly, thanks for reading and please review – the more I get the quicker I'll update - i'm not being selfish or anything but i spend a lot of time and effort on this story. I lost inspiration a couple chapters ago and now i'm only finishing it for you guys. It goes without saying i'd like reviews to know if an update is wanted. I apologise if it came across as selfish because that is not how i am. Thanks again._


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